


Of Benedictions

by calla_lilalma



Category: Black Clover - Tabata Yuki (Anime & Manga)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Canon Universe, Family Bonding, Family Dynamics, Family Feels, Light Angst, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, What-If, implied character canonical death
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-09-30
Packaged: 2020-11-08 08:24:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,840
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20832383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/calla_lilalma/pseuds/calla_lilalma
Summary: Two instances of acknowledgement and approval, each in their own form, both showing the same care and blessing.





	Of Benedictions

**Author's Note:**

> Among others, this was meant for black clover week, but i had exams in September and my tempo never aligns with fandom events as i want, so I post when i can.  
Hope you enjoy! :)

Mereoleona storms out of the room, fast as lightning and loud as thunder, leaving part of her tension still lingering inside, asphyxiating.

Fuegoleon’s legs have grown roots, immobilizing him. His eyes are still a tender and sore, a red that contrasts his family markings hideously, barely holding back a new waterfall of tears.

He rushes to leave once motivation sparks to his legs; to be elsewhere, anywhere. After taking the first hurried step, the only other voice in the room grounds him to an absolute halt.

“Fuegoleon.”

Sometimes, being in a family like his, he’s taken aback at how soft, melodious voices can be as commanding and intimidating as yells and deep tenors, how volume and tilt aren’t reliable factors in filling the place with silence and respect.

Lady Acier’s voice is exactly that; he turns to look at her because he can’t imagine a situation to not listen to what she has to say, far from being ordered to. Such is the admirable strength of a Magic Knight Captain, one of the famous Dancing Princess of the battlefield he has heard so much from his sister and whoever else had the opportunity witnessing her in all her glory.

The woman in the large bed, a picture different from the stories but not lesser in any degree, smiles at him, unaffected by Mereoleona’s exit, serene and pleasant and refreshing the suffocating room with a light breeze without effort.

She pats the spot in the bed close to her, beckoning him conspicuously. Patiently waiting for his stiff legs to move him there, jaw clenched so tightly that his jawbone creaks in warning

Not much sensing so much as visibly touching the tension around him, apt and contained desperately in the dense, paper thin mana licking his skin, she lays a hand on his own, both unconsciously grasping fistfuls of the white sheets. For a moment, he’s afraid that he accidentally raised his own temperature and burned her but she keeps it in place and his senses pick up nothing wrong.

He looks away from her warm gaze and ever-present smile to her pale hand on his tanned skin, presumably delicate from the back on her palm, so transparent it shows the blue veins underneath; deceitful in reality as he can feel the rough, relentless callouses on his skin. Only someone with years devoted in hard, vigorous work can have such hands. Despite that, her touch is painfully motherly and comforting it makes the effort to keep his composure all the more torturous.

“I apologize for Sister’s behavior-” he starts, breaking the uncomfortable silence with something familiar, his voice hoarse but victoriously not breaking.

“It’s alright.” She interrupts him, her tone implying it’s for more than he isn’t willing to think on, “I never mind. It’s good to see she never loses her temperament.” She chuckles but he doesn’t share her mirth and her expression becomes serious, sighing deeply.

“It’s me who has to actually apologize, Fuegoleon, for I ask you the favor of listening this dying woman’s wish.”

This time, he isn’t as successful at controlling his uneven voice, “L-Lady Acier, please don’t say that-” he whispers.

“There is no need to glace over the truth, I am aware that there is not much time left.” It’s unbelievable how gracious and agreeable she can be with this dire situation, while him and so many others are in agony. He almost resonates with Mereoleona’s anger; if they were any more alike, he would’ve taken a training field for himself and decimated it too.

He swallows the thick bile in his throat, faces her head on and hopefully he looks reliable and trusted, “What do you want to ask?”

Relief smooths most of the worry out of her features, her hands taking both of his own larger ones and squeezes them lightly.

“Will you please take care of Nozel for me?” 

He chokes, completely astonished at the abruptness hitting him like an attack from his back despite the low volume, words stumbling in his mind as everything and nothing fires up and freezes his nerves.

In his defense, he didn’t expect her asking him about Nozel of all people- something about Mereoleona would be more in his capability; rely whatever Lady Acier would like to say to her after the embers settle, incapable to do so herself in her bedridden state.

Sympathizing with his inner turmoil, she speaks again, “I thought hard on whether I should throw such a commitment at you, still young and starting to experience life, but a mother can’t help but worry for all her children.”

She caresses her belly with her free hand and he can’t help but take her picture in. Traces of despair taint her joy about her expected child, undeservingly. She should have been completely glowing like she was in his memories when he was younger and her pregnant with Solid, without any conflict and darkness warring in her heart. “Seeing their sorrowful faces hurts my heart, it’s so painful I can’t stand it.”

“Everything with weigh on my dear Nozel the most after I’m gone- his place as the eldest and heir of the Silva family and the Silver Eagles. There is knowledge that only he will know for a long while, tearing him apart- as will everything else. He’ll be under immense pressure and you know how much he tends to disregard his own wellbeing in his ambition.”

Fuegoleon can’t help but sigh tiredly in agreement; Nozel always hides his ailments, even in the heat of a fever and dizziness and blood loss he refuses to sit down and heal properly. Studying and training alone without abandon and rest, always strains his body and mind without caring. Fuegoleon, in many occasions has had to fight him to the bed, threaten him to never spar again and be mad.

(Always an empty threat, even in his own ears- the thought of being away from Nozel is one he doesn’t like to entertain, one that feeds nightmares.)

Her lips pull down in a soft frown, eyes forlorn, “He’ll distance himself from everyone and carry everything on his own, built walls and close himself inside. He’s already starting to, to… prepare himself. I miss his smile.” The words faint into a whisper by the end and she exhales a cheerless sigh.

He does too. Rare and precious like beautiful jewels, it was a priceless, treasure of a reward to see. A sight that he strives to see again and again and cherishes each time right to his bursting heart.

It seems like a dream now, all that’s left is a cold mask of indifference and impassiveness, only the few that know how to read him thoroughly see the ache and suffering, with deep hints of rage. Lady Acier’s heart isn’t the only one breaking, not the only one seeing Nozel Silva becoming a shell in front of their very eyes.

_This is not the time to ponder his own dark thoughts,_ he scolds himself internally, a headache beginning to match his heartache. He can do that anywhere but here and any other time but now. At this moment, he is here to give this woman- a dying woman, despite the wrong about everything around that phrase- as much comfort as he possibly can. Despite before having been so drowned in his own emotions at the morbid revelation, he must push it aside and resurge. It’s part of being a decent human being and a Magic Knight; if he can’t put his own emotions for someone in need for brief moments, even in the most helpless moments, he isn’t worthy of the captaincy of the Crimson Lions that awaits him.

That’s why he takes Lady Acier’s hands in his own now, his grip steely and eyes full of determination, with confidence and composure that was gone when this conversation began, seemingly too long ago.

“Your worry is unnecessary, Lady Acier,” he states, voice echoing the recovery in his resolve, taking her aback for a brief moment, “You needn’t ask me of this. Nozel is important to me, never in a million years will he ever be a burden to me, and I would care for him for all my life, unconditionally. I won’t abandon him and support him in fortune and calamity alike.” He raises one hand, pressing his thumb on the diamond like symbol on his forehead, the same hand that made that mark in the first place, “I swear it on my life.”

His skin feels warm, not as much as when the mark was first made, just enough for its color to be a darker shade of crimson. The mark might be for his own ambitions and surpassing of himself, but he wouldn’t be who he was and won’t be the man he hopes to be without his rival and cherished person joining him on the journey.

There is a moment of stunned silence, before she beams at him, shoulders shaking and biting her lip in effort to keep her giggles in. He simply lays here, watching her in puzzlement, but still happy that she’s not sad anymore.

The laughter settles, yet her smile remains, just as brilliant as he remembers all those years, “Unconditionally and for the rest of your life, hm? Then I should ease my worry and give you my blessing, after such heartfelt vows.”

His heartbeat accelerates dangerously and a flush covers face, tale-telling, “Lady Acier, you’re misunderstanding-”

“It’s alright dear. It’s nothing to be embarrassed about. Not to me. I have seen your beautiful bond forming over the years and becoming stronger. It’s clear as a sunny day how much you love him.”

He bites his lower lip; really there is no way to hide from her, after all. He thought he was careful in his gaze when he realized when it had changed course. Cut himself from being obvious about wanting to hold Nozel’s hand and move to every step of life together as something more than only friends. Hiding his fluttering heart under the guise of training. Mereoleona had noticed, she was the one that a few years ago teased him to realization.

“I do, Lady Acier. Very much.” He admits in a whisper.

She smiles in understanding, warmly, “That’s good. Because he really loves you too.”

He wants to ask, but she shushes him with a finger in front of her lips, “It’s not my place to do more than a slight push to speed things up. You can’t get a word from that son of mine sometimes. And of course, welcome you to the family.”

“Now, you’re rushing things.” He might be chuckling along with her, but his face is aflame like never in his life. Not even the Vermillion fire affinity can help him.

“Nonsense! I was young too when I got married and had Nozel, you know? In my first year of captaincy!”

For the rest of their meeting, they spend it like this; with her embarrassing him about a supposed, extravagant wedding that she’s planned in full detail- rivalling the phantasmagoric celebrations the Vermillion family always organizes- it’s incredible and him half-heartedly trying to reign her imagination, but also indulging her.

The sky starts to redden. She calls his name one more time in a similar tone as the first time, lighter with obvious relief, before he leaves- check on his sister now that her anger must have been exhumed.

“Even in the slightest chance that your vows are not echoed in an altar, I am proud to have an earnest third son that already grows into a great man.” The corners of her eyes are moist but her grin reaches her ears, the first one in a long while.

He bows deeply, smiling too, keep those new traitorous tears under control.

“Thank you Lady Acier. It’s the greatest honor, hearing this from you.”

* * *

“Captain Fuegoleon!”

He pauses his step, turns around towards the source of the call and his eyebrows raise subtly in surprise.

“Good evening, Nebra. Was is it?” he inquires, waiting for her to catch up before start walking again, slowing his pace to adjust to hers. Her eyes narrow into slits for as second at this but she doesn’t mention anything.

“You’re also heading to the castle, correct? May I walk with you?”

“Of course. Are you heading to Nozel’s office?”

She nods and hums in affirmation, then they walk in silence.

Fuegoleon catches her fleeting glances at his direction; sometimes at his face, others at his regenerated arm, but he doesn’t address it yet, while wondering the motives besides the unexpected meeting and request.

It’s not often that he sees her without her brother, the pair is almost inseparable. Actual years have passed since he had spoken more than a few sentences to her, much less the youngest Silva son, as has Mereoleona. The large age gap with Leopold has never presented any opportunity either. The only one of the Vermillions that the siblings are closer to is Kirsch, as he’d seen them together in multiple occasions and hanging out in any event around their nobility.

“How is Solid?” he asks, wondering about his state after the elf invasion. Nozel had mentioned that he was injured but by the only slightly anxious tone infused in his voice, it mustn’t have been something particularly worrisome.

Nebra scoffs, “He’s being a baby, but otherwise he’ll be fully recovered in a couple of days.” She pauses, “How is your…arm?” her conversational tone is shier than he knows her to be and a calming smile comes to his lips.

“It feels good as new.” He chuckles lightly, “Owen said that only a few physical therapy sessions will be needed.” Clenching and unclenching his fist for emphasis and reassurance, he turns forward as the castle comes into view, fully lively with throngs of people and functioning like clockwork, as it was one of the first buildings to be repaired comes into view, just as majestic as it ever was.

A clearing of her throat gives Nebra back his attention. Her sharp features are still pinched and pensive, but her eyes are clear in their cutting edge.

She’s searching for something in him. Doesn’t hide her assessment in the least and he doesn’t shy away from it, even though he’s confused about the reason and motive.

After a long moment, she must have found it, as she straightness her shoulders, perfecting an already perfect noble posture. A habit, he muses, that Nozel shares too; straightening his back here and there even when it’s rigidly straight, especially after being in his office- overprotective of their perfect posture.

“I called out to you because I want to apologize.”

His step pauses but resumes walking promptly, the conversation appearing more like a casual chat than something of heavier impact, especially if it’s coming from such a proud person as Nebra Silva.

Instead, he lets his surprise show in the furrow of his brow, “What for?” he responds in the same lowered tone, to avoid prying ears.

“When you were unconscious…” she starts, her words a beat faster, as if she practiced this speech by herself, “Solid and I said many harsh and mocking words…about your defeat in the royal capital being a disgrace for both nobility and the Magic Knights’ squad.”

Annoyance and disdain pass in a flashing surge inside him, thrumming in his veins like the heat of alcohol; at both Nebra’s testament and at his own defeat, that lingers disgracefully in him even when he has taken it as a lesson and stepping stone of becoming stronger- albeit the bitterness doesn’t fully disappear and he hopes it will as time passes.

His mana gives out a hint of this, confirming the expression that slips in for brief moments; both make Nebra take a step aside, putting subtle distance between them.

“It wasn’t until seeing Elder Brother’s face and receiving his scolding I realized that I…have been… wrong.” She exhales shakily, shoulders tense and fingers intertwined so tightly her skin is impossibly paler.

“And he didn’t put me into this, just so you know.” She exclaims, huffing, “He’d never tell us to, he never does and we always take his silence as complicity, forgetting to see past that. But that time… he was hurting and he snapped, rightfully so. I…am very sorry for my words, Solid is too and I’ll drag him by the ear once he is recovered to say it himself.”

On plenty occasions in the past, Leopold was being too clingy and energetic to be left alone and Fuegoleon had to bring him along to his spars with Nozel. At first it was awkward and both had to be careful lest the little rascal was caught in the crossfire while running around, but then when Fuegoleon put his foot down and his most scolding frown on, his little brother learnt to be audience in safe distance, always ending up falling asleep from exhaustion and his little body being carried in his arms.

Years after, with Leopold having started his own training and not joining them, all of the sudden Nozel had confessed to him how he worries about his siblings and the ‘toxic’ influence he has been on them; how he didn’t know how to handle them, what to say and do as they grow up. All while his eyes are clouded and downcast, jaw set firmly still. There are more words hang in the air, that he clutches desperately only to himself, horrified to reveal a deathly secret.

Fuegoleon had wanted desperately to ask, but Lady Aciers words echoed in his mind and all he could do was to put his busy, whirlwind mind at ease as much as possible.

_Maybe your fears weren’t irrefutable truth, after all. _he thinks now. They are still young, irresponsible despite the kingdom assigning such responsibility on them, but little by little, they change, just like everyone else, if not more flexibly. He’s surely not the same person as five or ten years ago.

Grinning, he puts a hand on Nebra’s shoulder, startling her enough to let out a barely heard ‘eek’.

“I accept your apology.” He says simply and feels the strain aptly lessening under his palm.

She pushes it off elegantly, scoffing but in a distinctly better mood, “It’s for my brother, not for you. And for me, I’d like to maintain a civil with the person that he leans on and makes him happy. I assume I won’t need to say that if you hurt him, you’ll be put into a much-deserved coma next time.” Her smile is venomous even if it doesn’t have the desired effect as he chuckles.

Concentrated in their talk, he doesn’t notice when they turn the corner and arrive near Nozel’s office.

“Oh, before I forget, I have made a reservation on Elder Brother’s favourite restaurant for pretty soon in his name. Take him there, he’s been working continuously all day without a break. I’m leaving now.”

“Wait, Nebra, didn’t you say-”

“Actually, I was going to visit Solid and Kirsch, when I ran into you. I must have forgotten. Oh well,” Her voice is exaggeratingly pensive to be genuine and she turns to leave but stops to face him once more, “You should propose soon, Fuegoleon Vermillion- I have the perfect dress in my closet for over a year and I don’t want to grow out of it before I ever wear it.”

And in the next moment she leaves, singing laugh and flowing dress her last signs after she knocks Nozel’s door for him, disappearing before Fuegoleon can hear the enter from the other side.

(Briefly, he can’t help but think amidst his disoriented amusement how the Silva women never seem to let him catch a break one way or another with their secrets and their keen intuition, no matter whether it’s now or fifteen years ago.)

Still winded, he enters the room, immediately focusing all his attention to the man sitting on the desk, amethyst eyes never leaving the scroll he’s reading.

It’s the perfect moment for Fuegoleon to round the large office table, his approaching footsteps alerting the other, but a second too late before he cups his face with his hands, leans down to capture parted lips into a sweet kiss. He smiles into it when feels Nozel relaxing and pressing into it just right.

Pulling back just enough to keep their lips brushing for a second, he watches Nozel fluttering his eyes open, shining prettily in the daylight.

“I’m back.” he mutters, pulling back completely, to see the pinkish flush blooms in Nozel’s cheekbones.

“Welcome back.” he responds, clearing his throat. There is a dark shadow under his eyes, probably out of exhaustion. “How was the mission? Your arm?”

“All perfectly alright, you don’t have to worry so.” Fuegoleon doesn’t move, leans onto the office and takes Nozel’s hand, setting the quill aside.

“You seem tired.” He observes, playing out Nebra’s parting words, holding some truth by the red traces in Nozel’s bottom eyelids, “How long have you been here?”

“There is a lot to be done.” Nozel says, the implications clear. Fuegoleon urges him to his feet.

“Let’s go out. Get some fresh air, eat something.”

Nozel frowns deeply at first but nods, and Fuegoleon grins, wrapping his other arm around Nozel’s waist and pulling him chest to chest, kissing him once more, more fiercely this time.

“I love you.” He whispers into his ear -the one that the traditional Vermillion engagement earring will be clasped, made by him, molded in the strongest of fires, unique for his beloved. Nozel blinks, the color on his cheek spreading all the way to his ears, while his eyes narrow sharp in suspicion- a motion so alike to the one he just received moments ago from his younger sister.

“Shut up, you oaf!” he stutters, wiggling out of his grip fruitlessly. When sees he’s still in place, he gives him the tiniest and cutest pout. “What has gotten into you?”

“Nothing at all.” He laughs, and releases his grip, “Shall we?”

Nozel may huff in indignation, his features remain soft and moderately tired. Yet he still has the audacity to pay him with his own coin and more, reaching up and biting Fuegoleon’s bottom lip, murmuring a felt more than heard ‘I love you too’ before he pulls back, returned to his usual composed demeanor. There is a smirk underneath it, as he walks to the entrance of his office, raising a questioning eyebrow too.

“Aren’t you coming?” he asks, all impatiently, as if he’s doing Fuegoleon a favor.

(Later, he’ll caught a sight of Nebra on their return in the afternoon – refreshed, content and ready to deal with their responsibilities with a fresh mind- of her smug grin, shadowed by her hand the very next moment. A guffaw will escape him that’ll startle Nozel and prompt him to ask once more why his mood is so strange today.)

**Author's Note:**

> I'm doing a combination of 'how whipped can i write Fuegoleon?" and "How many personal headcanons can i shove into a fic" personal challenges i guess...  
My Tumblr username: callalilalma  
Thanks for reading! :)


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